


First Assignment

by anamatics



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Case Fic, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8381011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamatics/pseuds/anamatics
Summary: Snapper’s first assignment to Kara is a teaching moment: one he considers vital needs if she wants to be a journalist. It seems simple, write about L-Corp’s new green initiative, get a few quotes, write something semi-decent. But as Kara starts to dig in, she finds herself at the center of L-Corp’s new CEO’s attention…for better or for worse.





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> So I live with a journalist and half of my social circle is comprised of... you guessed it, journalists. A lot of this fic is colored by the realities of that, and the lack of realities of the show. Going into this you should know that.
> 
> Also totally going with the version of the Luthors we see in Smallville S1.

Snapper Carr’s first assignment for Kara is memorizing the Associated Press’s Style Guide. Kara does it in a night and tells him so the next morning. She’s feeling a bit proud of herself. He barely even looks at her as he shoves a copy editing test into her hand and tells her she’d better not make a mistake.

Kara does the test against the wall of the investigative team offices, maybe using just a bit of her super speed to write faster as her wrist is cramping. She does the test in full view of these grizzled, seasoned journalists, smiling all the while. She’s going to prove it to them. She can write. She knows she can. She can do this job.

He reads though her responses and sets the paper aside. “So you can memorize things.”

“I can.” Kara nods.

“Doesn’t mean a damn thing,” He closes his eyes, rubs his temples, and then looks up at her. His gaze is shockingly intense. Kara’s fingers twitch. Her nostrils flare. She wants to yell and kick and scream that she’s _worthy._ She did this. This is her taking the dive.

And now Cat isn’t here to protect her.

But she’s passed some sort of test of Snapper's, it seems.

“I want you to go and speak to someone from L-Corp about this.” Snapper holds up a piece of paper, his scrawling handwriting nearly incomprehensible. “Get me a thousand words by three. No mistakes and I might consider letting it go to print.” He pauses, digs under a pile of papers, and then pulls a thin folder out and shoves it at her as well. “Fuck it up, and we’re done.”

The paper has a few scant words, half in steno, that Kara has to spend a few precious seconds translating before she understands. L-Corp is starting a green initiative aimed to eliminate all chemical pollutants from their portfolio by 2020. The folder contains all the details about the plan and its proposed timeline and work schedule. But the final page is some sort of EPA filing that seems to contradict the effort. Kara frowns, glances at Snapper, but he’s absorbed in something new and ignoring her in favor of some other page of scrawling notes.

It’s a step in the right direction.

 

It isn’t just EPA filings. Kara matches the complicated chemical compounds to the US Patent Office’s website and prints out the applications and ownership documentation. She reads though the paperwork and takes notes like she’s putting together a briefing for Cat after a particularly trying meeting. After that, Kara isn’t quite sure what to do next. If this were some DEO problem, she’d start to look into other avenues to see if there was commonality. So Kara starts to look up the plants owned by the former Luther Corp that dot the Midwest, wondering if maybe there was a cause for the discrepancy.

And then she calls Lena Luthor’s secretary.

He’s a nice guy, young, really gay. Kara gets along with him instantly.  She explains that she met Lena a few weeks ago, when all that insanity happened with the rebrand and she had a few follow up questions for CatCo magazine.

“That article was published already,” he says. “But for you, Ms. Danvers, I’ll make an exception.”  He answers Kara’s questions carefully, but it’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t know much about what’s going on. She takes the quotes he’s willing to give, thanks him, and calls up the L-Corp R&D department to confirm that the patent filings are dated, but that the EPA has a backlog. 

They don’t contradict him, but it isn’t until Kara ducks out of the office for twenty minutes to fly to one of the plants in Nevada that she sees what’s got Snapper intrigued about this whole thing. Cat would have been intrigued too.  There’s a disconnect between the shiny, new and very pretty public face of the former LuthorCorp and what’s going on in its plants. The foreman is willing to give Kara a quote provided she doesn’t state his name.

“Yeah,” he says, spitting out chew and rubbing at his three day old beard.  “We still make that stuff. Got contracts every big Ag group in the country that won’t expire for _years_ yet. Something has to keep the lights on around here and it certainly isn’t whatever is going on in that shiny new tower in National City.”

Kara tucks her hair behind her ear and nods. “And what do you make of the green initiative that Lena Luther’s proposed?”

“The only green I see is in the chemicals,” he says. “This isn’t a clean business, we make fertilizer and agricultural chemicals here. We fully vet and test everything and file with the EPA, as we’re required to.”

 

The statement weighs heavily on Kara’s mind later when she types up the article for Snapper. She writes about the disconnect between the field operation and corporate headquarters – and how work done within L-Corp’s R&D offices seemed to completely contradict the mandate of its chief executive. She knows she should probably get a quote from Lena Luthor herself, but she isn’t sure that’s what Snapper was going for when he asked her to get this done.  She emails it to him at ten to three and nervously fidgets her way down the hall toward the investigative team’s office a few minutes later.

Snapper’s reading when she pokes her head around the corner. He’s frowning, flipping through the documentation Kara has to back up the statements she’s made. She can tell she’s made an impression on him, but she can’t put together if it’s a good one or a poor one. She swallows, nervous.

“Get in here,” he calls, not looking up. Kara wonders if he can see through walls too.

Kara scoots up to Snapper’s desk.

“This is interesting, Ponytail.” Kara closes her eyes, hating the nickname. He taps the tablet screen and the font goes huge.  He curses, zooms back out. Kara tries very hard not to smile. “There might be something to you besides dresses and hot air.” He sets the tablet aside, his expression pensive. “Where is the disconnect coming from, really?”

Tilting her head to one side, Kara frowns. “I don’t follow you sir.”

“You’ve all but accused the Luthor girl in this article of not knowing what’s going on inside her company, but at the same time, you say she’s a very capable and efficient leader. What is it? Is she bad at her job or are her employees actively defying her orders?”  He bridges his fingers and leans against them. “Your writing should convey a clear narrative, not waffle between two different opinions.”

“I think there’s a combination of both, though” Kara answers. “Given what we saw when the company rebranded, are you remotely surprised that she doesn’t have a good handle on what’s going on? I think that the people on the ground are just trying to keep their jobs, and that she’s trying to fix the company name after everything Lex Luthor did. Changing business models also potentially hurts the company’s contracts with some of the major agricultural companies in the Midwest who use their chemicals for pesticides and in seed coatings.”

Snapper frowns. “So you think she’s setting the company up to take a big financial hit and lose a lot of jobs.”

“Maybe not intentionally, but that will be the end result.”

“Add that to your article. You get another hundred words, Ponytail.” He turns away, a dismissal.

 

The article is published. Snapper might have edited it to death, but it was published. Kara’s practically vibrating she’s so proud. Clark calls her and congratulates her. Lois comes on the line and tells her good work. She asks the same sort of pointed questions Snapper did, and somehow it makes Kara feel a little better. Kara saves the copy of the magazine. Snapper gives her two other articles in the magazine that month; puff gossip pieces she could write in her sleep. She does them dutifully; using Cat’s contacts to make sure she has quotes from the celebrities that she’s been instructed to tear to shreds.

It’s all very overwhelming. But it’s the email from Cat, sent at two thirty in the morning on the day of publication, simply saying good job that makes Kara smile like she’s won the lottery for the next few days.

Or, it was enough to make her smile, until Kara finds herself in a coffee shop not too far from the L-Corp offices cleaning up in the bathroom after a particularly wild four-alarm fire she’d helped to put out. She’s standing in her bra, scrubbing at a spot on her shirt stained with flame retardant. It’s greasy and the stain’s spreading and showing no signs of coming out. Which sucks, because she loves this shirt and she doesn’t exactly make enough money to keep replacing her clothing whenever stuff like this happens.

Which is to say, all the time.

“Stupid, stupid,” Kara mutters, pumping more soap from the dispenser.

The door opens, and a woman’s voice, not immediately recognizable, cuts through the quiet hum of the tinned music coming from the speaker in the ceiling. “Don’t worry, Spencer, I’m just going to wash my hands before we head back to the office. Please collect my coffee. We’re not late yet.”

Kara moves as fast as she can to get her shirt back on. The stain is still there, wide and blotchy against her upper arm. She looks up, glasses slipping down her nose, to catch sight of Lena Luthor closing the bathroom door.

“Oh...” Lena’s eyes go wide for a second before they narrow. “Ms. Danvers.”

“Hello,” Kara says, shaking water from her hands. “Nice to see you again.”

There’s something hard that comes into Lena’s eyes then, something that cuts into Kara and makes her feel cold. Lena pushes the door shut, leaning her weight against it so no one else can come in. “Was that your first byline?”

“Was what?”

“The article you wrote in CatCo magazine about my company.” Lena’s lip curls, sneering behind dark lipstick. “The one where you implied I was incompetent and unfit.”

Kara swallows, takes half a step backwards, and then understands something Cat told her about why they did this job when she was having one of her more despondent moments around Snapper’s awful attitude toward her. They do this job to report the facts and to tell the truth; not to cater to the whims of the elite. It’s never been about that for Kara. She wants to tell the truth, that’s all.

“What I didn’t understand when Spencer gave me that article, was what I was supposed to do with the information,” Lena continues.  Her expression is closed off, and her words are clipped and short. “I would have thought that I’d earned more respect from you than that.”

“I want to be your friend too, Ms. Luthor. But it’s my job to write things like that.” Kara smiles weakly. “I just followed the facts. There is a discrepancy there, something you should look into.”

Lena sighs. “Maybe you could tell me about what you found, sometime?” She digs in her pocket and pulled out a business card. From her purse she produces a pen and writes a number on the back. “That’s my personal cell.” She hesitates, just for a second. “I thought what you wrote was very fair, but I want to know more about what you discovered when you started digging into this. If my people aren’t doing what I instruct them, I need to know so I can correct the issue.”

“Don’t you have internal monitors for something like this?” Kara takes the card, tucks it away in her notebook, and glances down at the spot on her shoulder. A little hiss of annoyance escapes her lips.

“Have you tried baking soda?” Lena asks, drifting past her and turning on the tap on the other sink. “That usually gets fire retardant out…”

It isn’t until later, when Kara’s gone back home to change and is soaking her shirt in baking soda, that she realizes she has no idea how Lena Luthor knew what was on her shirt.

 

Kara pitches the idea to Snapper. He blinks at her in the low light of the office. Kara notices the dark circles under his eyes and the nicotine stains on his teeth when his lips curl back from his teeth and his ire grows. “In a bathroom?”

“Um, yes?” Kara tries. She knows it’s weird for guys when girls talk in the bathroom. “It was totally a coincidence, I swear. I was going out, she was going in.”

“I wasn’t aware you knew each other.”

Kara shakes her hand dismissively. “No, it wasn’t like that. Cat sent me along with Clark Kent when he was here covering the L-Corp rebrand. I met her briefly in all of that. She was nice. I think she was more concerned that I wrote about something she hadn’t noticed about her own company.”

“And now you want to go and interview her about taking over a company and trying to change it as a woman and an outsider?” He rolls eyes. “That kind of feminist crap will fly with Cat Grant but it won’t fly with me.”

“Respectfully, sir,” Kara grinds out, “I think CatCo Magazine’s readership might like it.”

He glares.

She glares right back.

It’s a battle of wills. And Kara, well, Kara’s been through a lot more in her life than this grouchy old man with a horrible attitude has ever even dreamed of. She thinks of all the awful things she’s seen in her life and keeps her expression steely. She’ll win. She’s right, after all. He knows it. He can’t ignore the creative direction of the magazine and the mission and mandate Cat put into place all those years ago in favor of his agenda.

And surprisingly, it’s Snapper who caves. “Fine. Go. Get me something that’ll sell.” He waves his hand dismissively.

Kara feels a little thrill of victory, and restrains the whoop that wants to come out of her mouth.  Nodding to Snapper, Kara retreats and goes back to her office. 

 

Lena agrees to an interview only if it’s a two way conversation. “You’re interesting, Kara Danvers,” she explains. “I want to know more about you.” Kara thinks she sounds lonely, in a way, and she understands that loneliness better than most.

So she says yes, in her own way. “I’m hardly interesting!” Kara laughs, protesting because it’s true. She’s definitely _boring_. It is a part of the carefully honed defense mechanism that she’s had to work her entire life on earth at perfecting. “But I don’t mind having a conversation with you…”

 

Lena asks that the interview be a working lunch when Kara steps into her office.  She’s got a bag of something greasy-looking that smells amazing in one hand and a to-go cup from one of the lesser-known burger joints in the city. Kara doesn’t mind at all, and is surprised when Lena pulls two burgers out of the bag and passes her one and a stack of napkins.  “I don’t eat fries.”

“Why not?” Kara asks. She wipes grease from her fingers and sets her recorder in the space between them. 

“Bad skin.” Lena winked. “I had terrible acne as a child.”

“You couldn’t tell it now,” Kara answers. “So uh, good on your genetics?” Lena smiles, a sheepish little smile that makes Kara feel confused. Isn’t she supposed to be mad at Kara? “I…I’m really grateful you accepted this interview. After what you said before,” and at this Kara makes a vague gesture with her burger, “I wasn’t sure that you’d be willing.”

It earns her that same quirky smile from Lena. “I acted like an ass,” she confesses. “I was upset at what you alleged, and also I was upset you didn’t bring the concerns to me.”

“That isn’t my job, Ms. Luthor,” Kara says evenly.

She chuckles. “Suppose it was worth it to try, wasn’t it?”

Kara doesn’t follow… Until she does. And her stomach clenches uncomfortably. Lena wanted to take advantage of her perceived naivety. This kind gesture, this offer of lunch and conversation, its warmth fast sour as the realization dawned. She sets down the burger and bridges her fingers in her lap, it’s like the temperature has gone out of the room. “Maybe we should start there, then. Ms. Luthor, what do you have to say about the allegations your plant manager made, that you’re talking out of both sides of your mouth on this environmental initiative?”

“L-Corp intends to honor its current contracts, Ms. Danvers. It’d be bad for business not to.” She wiped her fingers, frowning. “The initiative is trying to adhere to the current administration’s targets for 2020. I cannot completely undo nearly a century of bad business practices overnight.”

“And the people who will lose their jobs as you phase out their livelihood?” Kara’s pushing, she knows she is. It strikes her as a question Cat would ask. Or maybe Snapper if he wasn’t such an ass about everything. “Will you be transitioning them into other jobs when you close down those facilities?”

It’s the ruthlessness that strikes Kara later, when she’s sitting in her office transcribing the interview. Lena leans forward, her expression unreadable. Her fingers close around Kara’s hand, resting on the table, and her nails are tight on Kara’s skin. She doesn’t feel them biting, doesn’t feel much of anything at all when Lena Luthor stresses just how hard it is to be a woman in charge of a company with the reputation L-Corp has. Kara meets Lena’s gaze when she says that there’s no chance for some of these men, who’ve bene in the industry so long that they perhaps can’t learn another way. “I can’t save everyone,” Lena explains. “People who are willing to let go and to change, perhaps, but as we move toward a green initiative.”

“Why is it so important that you be green? For a company with a business model based largely around agricultural chemicals, you seem awfully concerned about the impacts of them on the environment.” Kara fidgeted. “The cause is honorable, but if this is about saving face for the company, you’d do better if you weren’t threatening to cut half your workforce by 2020.”

Lena’s lip curled, “What, did you expect me to not care about the environment? L-Corp feeds half the country.”

“I thought farmers did that.”

“Farmers whose pesticides come from L-Corp.” Lena shot back. “Your perfectly smooth green apple, the tomato on this burger, the grain used to make the bun. All of those were protected and allowed to grow strong and high-yielding because of chemicals made by this company.” Lena exhaled. “But they’re not the whole picture, and I want L-Corp to be a part of the solution, not contributing to the problem.” She grinned. “I know chemicals, Ms. Danvers. They’re in my blood, or they would be, if I wasn’t adopted.”

 

Kara starts her article: “To many in small towns across the country, the L-Corp (formerly LuthorCorp) plant is the lifeline. Now that lifeline is threatened by a changing of the guard within the company.” She writes 2500 words and sends it off.

Snapper sends it back with scathing commentary. It isn’t her job, apparently, to comment on the morality of firing people who work in dated industries and are unwilling to adapt to a rapidly changing economy.

(It’s a start.)


	2. ii

The article isn’t published. Snapper sits her down and talks her through what’s wrong with it, _in excruciating detail_ , before telling her that she’s not that kind of journalist and she can’t be if she wants to work on his team. “Stop trying to be friends with her, Ponytail.”

“I’m not!” Kara insists petulantly.

“You’re soft on her while condemning what her company is doing.” He jabs an accusatory finger at her. “Don’t flex away from your main point in tenderness.” He highlights a line or tow, scowling deeply in a way that makes him look ancient. “We know she’s sitting on something big and sees you as a potential sympathetic ear. Why do you think none of the rest of the team can get an interview? She’s sitting on something big, or else she’d be less than willing to talk to you, green as you are.”

“What do you mean?” Kara asks.

“You’re barely scratching the surface, Ponytail. It’s time you learned a little bit more about how this business works.” He gestures to a small desk in the corner with barely enough room for a computer terminal and a desk lamp. “Go. Sit. We need to discuss this with the group.”

Kara’s hearty maybe flutters, just a little bit, and she’s positively beaming when she slips her phone out into her lap and texts Cat that she has a desk!

 _Good._ Cat replies a few moments later. _Don’t lose it by pissing Carr off_.

So Kara puts her phone away and sits pretty.

When the rest of the team gathers, twenty minutes later, Kara is picking at some lint on her pants. Snapper is steadfastly ignoring her, instead choosing to mutter and bang about the other side of the room, wheeling in a white board and kicking boxes out of the way so that they have a space to push it up against the wall.  He ignores Kara’s offers for help.

In the middle of the board he writes _Luthor Chemical_ in large, block letters. Kara’s fingers twitch. She wiggles the mouse of the computer on the desk and logs in, looking up her notes on the shared drive.  She nods, that makes sense. Luthor Chemical is a subsidiary of L-Corp, but it’s been the subject of a lot more of the controversy the company’s generated that haven’t been related to Lex Luthor.

The motley crew of CatCo’s Enterprise division are all names Kara’s heard, but has never connected faces with. There’s Leah Montague, an attractive black woman in her thirties who smiles politely at Kara before going to her desk and unloading what has to be half of the National City Public Library onto her desk.  She plops down, kicking her long legs out and crossing them at the ankles to reveal socks with a zig-zag pattern seguing into hot pink oxfords.  Kara likes her instantly.

David Yosef cuts in a few minutes after Montague, shoving instant ramen into his mouth and scowling down at his phone, held between his index and middle finger as he walks and eats at the same time.  Kara’s impressed by his coordination, and doubly so when he settles down next to Snapper and shakes his hand as though it’s nothing at all. “Lucas,” he says.

“Dave.” Snapper replies with something like a smile. Kara thinks she’s hallucinating.

The third member of the team is a data analyst named Moira Kelly that Kara’s heard tell of from Winn but has never met. They’re something of a legend in the circles Winn runs in, but no one’s ever seen their face. So when a small woman of indeterminate age walks into the room, laptop in hand, Kara assumes that Winn just never knew what the woman looked like. She smiles politely at Kara, and then does a double take.

“Aren’t you Cat Grant’s secretary?”

“She’s been reassigned,” Snapper grunts. He gets heavily to his feet. “On a probationary basis.”

Kelly blinks behind thick glasses. “I see,” she tucks a graying hair behind her ear. “Well, I hope you’re worth it.”

It’s an insult, the third in the past hour. Kara bristles, but bites her tongue. Cat’s right, she can’t force them to accept her. Just as with Cat, she has to prove her worth, prove herself in a way that isn’t going to make Snapper go postal on her articles.

In her notebook, Kara writes down a few of the book titles she’s seen lying around the room. Books like _All the President’s Men_ and _Silent Spring_. Investigative reports she’s heard tell of, over the course of her life on earth, but has never read. She was, after all, a communications major, not a journalism major.

There’s other books too – books on Snapper’s desk that she’s already written down. There’s the requisite copy of _Elements of Style_ , which Kara already owns and referenced liberally as she was trying to adjust to working in a corporate ally.  There are other books too: _Truth Needs No Ally_ and _The Journalist and the Murderer._ That last one she’s particularly interested in, because it’s all about the relationship between a journalist and the subject of their journalism.

Kara feels a little thrill when Snapper steps up to the white board, marker in hand, and calls the room to order with a single look. She’s commanded that kind of power, she finds it thrilling. Watching this man, this awful, unpleasant ass of a man, do it isn’t as off-putting as she’d thought it would be. In this room, he commands the same respect as Supergirl.

 

The meeting is a run-down of the investigation that Kara has, without her knowledge, helped to further. They’re trying to determine next steps. Kara listens, takes notes, and tries to figure out something to say. They’re speaking partially another language to the one she’s used to at CatCo, all jargon-laden shorthand and names and paper flying faster than she can keep up with only a partial understanding of what everything _means_ let alone its application.

Kara loses the thread, somewhere in the transition from English to Journalist Speak, and only gains it again when Snapper points his marker at her.

“Blondie over here has Lena Luthor on the record stating that they will be phasing out their agricultural chemical production by 2020 to adhere with the president’s mandate regarding GMOs. Apparently the pesticides can alter foods on a molecular structure – where are we on that? Montague?”

“I’ve spoken to a few chemists at NCU about the compounds identified in that EPA filing. There wasn’t a consensus about what impacts they could have on soil composition…let along actual grown food.”

Kara swallows, and then tentatively raises her hand.

Snapper glares at her. “Well? This isn’t elementary school.”

“What if there’s a corresponding filing with the FDA? That might have more detail.” It’s something that Alex has mentioned to her in the past, that some of the stuff that she does with the DEO has to be filed with the Food and Drug Administration, especially if it has application on humans. “Especially if it can alter something on a molecular level. It could be a carcinogen. The FDA would want to vet it.”

“That’s something we can get through a FOIA request.” Snapper writes it down. “You’re on that Montague. Get the paperwork down to legal today if you can. Tell them it’s a rush.”

“I could—” Kara starts. They all stare at her. Yosef takes his glasses off and wipes them on his shirt corner. Kara swallows, pushes forward. “I know that you’re not really in favor of it, sir, but I could speak to Lena Luthor again. She seems really willing to talk about her company and what this initiative is. Why not just outright ask her?” Kara’s a little sick of beating around the bush with Lena anyway. That’s part of why she likes it when she can be Supergirl and people just say what they mean, instead of hedging and avoiding things.

“If she’s up to something, she’s not just going to _tell_ you,” Kelly points out. She reminds Kara of her first teacher on Earth. The one who always thought there was something _wrong_ with Kara but could never quite put her finger on what it was. Wasn’t natural for a child to be so sad, or something. It wasn’t like Kara was spending every waking breath trying to forget the colossal explosion of Krypton. “That’s not how this works. You have to get your ducks in a row before you go to people like the Luthor girl. Give them proof and ask them to refute or confirm it.”

“But she’s so nice.” That’s not entirely true. She likes Lena, likes talking to her and likes the way Lena smiles at her as though she’s the only star in the sky. “And I think she’d tell me… if I asked.”

They’re all looking at her now like she’s a moron. Kara closes her eyes and wishes the floor would swallow whole. Snapper’s got his mouth working like he’s about to spit out something insulting and rude, Kara braces herself, but the blow never comes.  Instead he writes ‘follow up interview’ and ‘Kara’ with a big question mark next to it.

It’s Montague that offers her a bone, after the meeting is done and Kara’s cheeks are burning with resentment and humiliation. Snapper’s put her on making a graphic illustrating the Carter Administration’s new GMO and Chem standards. It’s busy work. Kara wants to do something more. “Why don’t you come down with me and learn how to file a FOIA request?”

 

“So you went to NCU?” Montague asks as they head back upstairs. Kara’s ears are picking up something ringing in the distance, sirens; another fire. She has to go but Montague is staring at her like she’s the most fascinating person in the world.  Kara twitches, concentrates on the here and the now, and blocks out the sirens. “What’d you study?”

“Communications,” Kara answers. “I graduated in 2013.”

“ _Christ_ , you’re a child,” Montague shakes her head. “I keep forgetting that. It’s why Snapper doesn’t like you, you know. You don’t end up on Enterprise when you’re that young. Not unless you’re damn good.”

It’s meant to be gentle, but it comes as a slap to her face. Kara looks down at her feet. She isn’t that good, and it’s a good reason to be resented by her relic of a boss. “I take it that I’m not?”

“No one is,” Montague laughs. “Not in his eyes.” Her hand is warm on Kara’s bicep. The sirens are echoing in her ears. She’ll have to go soon. The fire is a lot bigger than they’d initially thought. “Don’t worry about him too much, he’ll turn you into the sort of reporter this group needs soon enough. Just do what he says and try and take his criticism to heart when it’s about _the work_. The rest of it just ignore. He’ll get over Cat Grant throwing her weight around with him eventually. It isn’t about you.”

“Thanks,” Kara says. There are more sirens now, this fire is raging out of control. Four – no five alarm. She has to go.

“Anytime.” Montague answers.  She pulls her phone from her pocket and curses. “Shit, it’s that late? I gotta go get my kid.  See you around Danvers.”

It takes the door closing behind Montague before Kara’s thrown herself out the nearest window and is speeding toward the massive fire down in the warehouse district.

 

Kara’s not exactly on a first name basis with the fire chief, but when she lands next to him, he looks as though he could hug her. “What can I do?” she asks.

“Check for survivors,” he says grimly. “The fire’s burning too hot. We can’t get too close.  We’ll concentrate on trying to get it under control.” He grabs her arm them, looks down at his hand as though he’s surprised at himself. “A bunch of big-wigs from the parent company were down here earlier. I don’t know if they made it out before it started.”

She hears him, but she’s already gone, speeding into the flames, knowing he’s trying to save the city face if they end up not being able to save the life of someone important. Kara hates that aspect of the job, the idea that some people’s lives matter more than others. She’s racing against time, scanning the flames, looking, listening, almost deafened by the echo of burning around her.

There are two people in one of the far buildings, suck behind a door sealed shut in the vacuum of the heat. Kara gets them out and flies back in, but there’s no one else trapped. No one else that’s alive. She helps to douse the flames and heads back to work without sticking around for the praise. 

In her travels, she saw the name of the parent company painted on one of the warped walls of the interior of the warehouse. L-Corp owned this warehouse. She wants to call Lena Luthor, to make sure that this wasn’t another attempt on her life by her brother’s cronies, but she can’t bring herself to do it. She calls Alex instead, asking about the fires and their origins. Alex says the DEO’s had their hands full with other things and the problems of L-Corp are on the back burner. Kara’s about to argue that there’s something _more_ happening here when her phone buzzes.

Call waiting.

Restricted Number.

“Call you back,” Kara promises Alex.

“Let’s just do dinner tonight.” Alex answers.

“Okay.”

Kara hovers in midair, and switches the call over. “Hello?”

“Kara? It’s Lena Luthor. I was wondering if you’d want to come get a drink with me tonight,” Lena’s voice is warm, inviting. Kara falters. Nearly drops the phone out of the sky. She can’t, she _can’t_. She’s a Luthor, she’s being investigated by CatCo, she’s a _girl._ Well, that last part doesn’t really trouble Kara. It won’t be the first time she’s been asked out by a girl. Just the first time Kara’s found herself intrigued enough to say yes out of anything but stalwart politeness. “If you’re free, that is.”

“I-I—”

“It’s alright if you have plans. I know I’ve surprised you, asking you out like this.”

“No! I mean, no, you haven’t. I haven’t! I just… I wasn’t expecting it. I pushed you pretty hard in that interview. I’d’ve thought you want our relationship to be strictly professional.” Kara lands on a rooftop and ducks out of the wind, couching behind a water tower.  She exhales. Lena’s silence is stressing her out. “Right?”

“I never got to ask you my questions, Ms. Danvers, and I would relish the opportunity.” There’s a slight laugh, more of a chuckle. “It’s only equitable, right?”

Kara is singed – charred by the heat of the fire. It was a bad one. Like the one a few weeks ago. It’s starting to get into burning season now; these are going to become more common.  She leans back, staring up at the cysteine blue sky. This planet is so different from Krypton, and the sky without clouds of pollution still is a marvel to Kara.

“I’d like that,” Kara says.

“Excellent,” Lena says. Another voice comes on the line, an intruder in the room with bad tidings. “I… I have to go. There’s been a fire…” And then she’s gone, leaving Kara staring up at the sky and wondering about the fire.

 

Kara meets Lena in the lobby of the L-Corp building. She stands, fidgeting in her work dress and blazer, just out of sight of the elevators, wondering if she’s underdressed for an after work drink.

There’s a small gaggle of press there, and Lena pauses to speak with them, reading from a statement expressing dismay for the destruction of the warehouse down by the docks and well-wishes for the employees Supergirl pulled heroically form the blaze.  She takes a few questions, answers them, and then directs the reporters to her press office, slipping past them in a way that Kara recognizes from her own habits. Being invisible and blending in with a crowd is a skill Lena Luthor also possesses.

“Hey,” she says when Lena draws level with her.

“Hello,” Lena answers. She moves like she wants to… Kara isn’t sure, kiss her cheek? But instead fumbles, shifts her purse and laptop bag to her other shoulder, and tilts her head to one side. “When you were here last, we spoke about how L-Corp fed half the country. I never saw your article—”

“My editor pulled it,” Kara answered, still a little dejected about it.

“—but I thought maybe, you’d want to see what I was talking about?”

Intrigued, Kara tilts her head to one side. “I’d love to…” she trails off. The _but_ is hanging.

“What is it?”

“Well, if this is meant to be a social thing, I’m not sure it’s right for me to want to see whatever it is that you want to show me.” Kara fidgets. The ethics discussions she’s had with Cat come back to her, the thinly-veiled conversations about the morality of outing Supergirl, should Cat ever discover who Supergirl really was. This is like this, only it isn’t. Kara’s got to draw a line in the sand, if she’s going to continue to see Lena. “I don’t want to be rude though—” she hedges when Lena’s face falls. “I just don’t want to compromise whatever this,” she gestures to the space in between them, “is, if we’re going to continue to have to see each other in a professional capacity as well.”

“Well, you said your editor buried the story, right?”

“It wasn’t fit for print.” Kara’s not still smarting about it either. Not at all.

“Then it doesn’t matter, does it?” Lena reaches for Kara’s hand and pulls her to a door. She presses her palm to a sensor and exhales. The door unlocks, Kara lets herself be led inside.

 

They’re inside a series of laboratories. Lena tugs Kara down a sterile white corridor, away from anything interesting that she’s sure that Alex and Hank’s extreme paranoia would love to catch a glimpse of. This is the bowels of L-Corp’s R&D division. Somehow Kara’s pretty sure even _Clark_ would kill to get a look in here. Kara doesn’t look though. She keeps her eyes trained on Lena, on this woman she’s so intrigued by, and doesn’t look through the walls at the rooms beyond.

Lena pauses at a door toward the back. “This is what I’m really proud of, one of the things that I think L-Corp can do that’s good in the world.”  She pushes the door open, and exhales.  Kara smells a windswept plain in Kanas in the growing autumn, Mrs. Kent’s sad smile lingering in the window as she speaks in a low voice with Kal. Kara remembers sitting on the porch, surrounded by this smell, staring up at the barn in awe and wonder. Everything was alive, was growing, even as the world was catching fire in death. The sky was blue, Sol came up and went down again. No one was going to die if they spent too long outside.

_We can’t take her, Clark._

_But Ma!_

_I’m too old, your father’s gone. I couldn’t – not again._

Lena pulls a clipboard from beside the door and writes something down. “When Lex was having a charitable moment, he started this project. Our pesticides, the ones I’m phasing out, they treat against a specific form of soil blight. Lex saw an opportunity to make money, and developed a strain of wheat that’s resistant to the blight. My hope is that this will pass the vetting process with the FDA and EPA and can be introduced to the market.  With Global Warming, the blight’s become more common.” Lena exhales; inhales again. The sweet smell of grass and wheat on the air. She loves it as Kara does. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Kara nods, but her hands are fumbling with her phone. This is it. This has got to be why they’re so dedicated to phasing out their chemicals, because they’re replacing it with something better. Maybe she can bring this to Snapper. Maybe he’ll understand what to make of it.

“I’d ask that you not take any photos,” Lena adds, reaching up and pushing the camera down. “Even if it’ll look good on Instagram, I can’t have this leaking out just yet.”

“What if I wanted… a contact photo – or a … picture for Instagram?”

Her cheeks color almost dark enough to match the red on Kara’s cape and Lena ducks her head, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Would you?”

And now it’s Kara’s turn to blush, in this room full of genetically modified wheat that could feed an entire developing country. This good, wonderful, beautiful woman is doing this amazing thing and Kara wants to tell the world about it. She turns, tilts her head to the side, and looks at Lena. What does she want? Does she want this? Is this ethical?

Snapper’s voice in her head declares that it isn’t. It starts a war within Kara, because she really does like Lena. She likes talking to her, finds her steady despite a series of red flags the size Texas going up with every passing moment they’ve spent together. Snapper would tell her, later when this whole thing is done, that sometimes ignoring your instincts is smart, but right now all Kara hears is the condemnation.  But Kara likes how the blue light of this room falls across Lena’s face, likes how it draws attention to her high cheekbones and the dark color she’s painted her lips with.  She fidgets. “Let’s go somewhere where there’s better light?”

Lena nods, gathers her things and signs the clipboard as they leave the room.

 

Outside, in the setting sun, Kara finds a place for them to take a picture. They’re backed by a fountain: two women who have next to nothing in common save a thread of a connection forged by Kara’s cousin. It’s nice, honestly, to be around someone that knows so little about Kara that they could be strangers. So much of Kara’s social circle is formed by people who know her secrets, know her tragedies and her life story without having to even ask. Lena makes Kara feel _normal_.

The picture they snap is peaceful: young women girls bumping against each other. Kara sends it to Lena and makes it Lena’s contact picture. She ignores the man taking their photograph across the courtyard, too caught up in the moment to care that this could potentially end in a lot more than tears.

 

They go to a bar Kara suggests, a place with the atmosphere that will facilitate a conversation. And then they talk about nothing. Kara explains her family situation. Lena sympathizes between vodka tonics. She drinks like Cat, but with more control; more like Snapper and the hidden bottle of scotch in his desk drawer. Kara sips a glass of white wine because she likes the taste. They’re in a booth toward the back, quiet music plays from hidden speakers. Kara wonders if this is meant to be a date.

And after Lena’s second vodka tonic, Lena reaches out for Kara. Her hand is warm, her fingers curl in Kara’s palm.  The flush of the tasteless alcohol on Kara’s lips turns real, because Lena is leaning in, her breath tinged with vodka. It’s like Cat, but it isn’t like Cat. The same thing, only this time, this time, Kara isn’t afraid. 

“I’d like to keep seeing you,” Lena’s voice is soft, gentle. There’s the hint of that accent again. Kara’s eyes flutter shut. “Even if you’re trying to tear my livelihood down.”

“It’s my job,” Kara murmurs, her head tilting to one side. The last person she kissed was James. And there was the almost with Cat. Kara collects moments that she can savor later, when the darkness claims her and she allows herself to sleep. Her dreams are never good these days, and when it’s Lena’s finger, rather than her lips, that brush against Kara’s, it’s surprising.

“Not yet, I think.” Lena’s smile is small, mischievous.  “I don’t think that’s good first date behavior.”

“Is that what this is, then?”

“Is that what you want it to be?”

Kara thinks about it for a moment. Hears Snapper Carr’s voice in her head shouting at her that she shouldn’t try and be friends with Lena Luthor, that this is a conflict of interest, and decides she doesn’t care.

Her head dips once, and the smile that erupts across Lena’s face is so wide Kara’s almost giddy, basking in the glory of it.

(She’s late to meet Alex for dinner and when Alex smells Chanel No.5 on her, Kara just shrugs and says someone she was with earlier who was wearing it. Alex rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t know Cat Grant wore such old fashioned perfume.”

“Oh,” Kara says. “It wasn’t Cat.” She says it with a smirk that has Alex hounding her for details for the rest of the night.

Details that Kara is purposefully mum on.)


	3. iii

Snapper throws down a copy of the late edition of _Enquirer_ on Kara’s desk.

Kara picks up the paper and groans. It’s a picture from yesterday, when they were taking that selfie, blown up tenfold with the gaudy headline of _LEZ LIAISON: Lena Luthor shares a moment with mystery woman._ “I can explain.”

He crosses his arms, all messy shirt and scowl. “You’d better.”

Swallowing nervously, Kara picks up the paper. “I went to see Lena Luthor yesterday,” she begins. “She called me, and ah— asked me out for a drink. Like, socially.”

“And you _went?_ ” Snapper’s eyes are bulging. The vein on his neck is protruding, ugly. From his desk, David Yosef tugs a headphone from his ear, nosy, listening in. _Typical._ “We are investigating her company, _her_ —” He flings his arm in the direction of the white board. “You don’t just go out for drinks with someone you’re investigating. Especially not when you could be _photographed_ and end up in a fucking gossip rag.” He sucks in a deep breath. “Have you ever heard a conflict of interest?”

“Of course I have, sir—”

“Good, because you’re a walking one. You’re off this story before you end up a walking lawsuit for CatCo.”  Snapper glares, his nostrils flaring. Kara opens her mouth to protests, but he cuts her off. “You don’t want that for Cat, do you? You don’t want her magazine torn to shreds in the press because the baby reporter on her first assignment couldn’t _keep it in her pants_.” He speaks the words with such relish that Kara feels the humiliation burn in her cheeks.

 “Lucas, don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” Montague asked from her desk, her glasses slipping down her nose.

Snapper rounds on Montague. “No.” He says. “Pack up your desk, Danvers, you’re on general assignment until I can decide what to do with you.”

Yosef sniggers and puts his headphone back into his ear. Kara crumples, her cheeks bright red. She takes the _Enquirer_ and what’s left of her dignity. She stands up, her chin tilted defiantly. “Fine.” She says.

“Get out of my sight.” Snapper snaps back.

Kara retreats, quickly, before the tears spill.  There’s something about Snapper, his rude attitude and the way his eyebrows dip low when he’s pissed, that remind her so much of the men of Krypton. The men who were raised into a society where they were considered superior and commanded that respect because that was what society demanded of them.  Kara remembers reading about feminism in America while in high school, about learning about the struggles of black and brown people for their rights, she remembers asking Alex why they fought back. If society was functioning before, why did people push against the norm?

She remembers Alex not having an answer.

She reads the article, curled into the couch in her office; and she realizes how bad it is. While the headline doesn’t identify Kara directly, the article hints that she’s a CatCo employee and that she formerly worked under Catherine Grant. Kara doesn’t like the implication of that sentence, but reads on to find out that this is the first time Lena Luthor has had a liaison like this, and the article speculates that it could potentially damage her company in the eyes of investors.  They messed up, royally. But Lena’s messed up too. Both of them should be avoiding each other, at least until whatever Snapper is working on is published.

Kara leaves for lunch.  She pulls her phone from her pocket and dials Cat Grant.

“Can I see you?” she asks when Cat picks up.

“It took you long enough to ask.” Cat replies.

 

Cat is sitting out by the pool when Kara lets herself into the beach house. She doesn’t even move from where she’s cross-legged, perched on the end of the diving board, a sheaf of papers in her hands. Kara swallows, and lets herself be seen, and she’s always, always grateful that Cat never seems to question Kara’s lack of a car and her uncanny ability to get out of the hills and to the beach so quickly after a summons.

“Lucas called me,” Cat says, flipping a page over and scribbling something on a sticky note before turning to the next one. “Said he had to pull you from Enterprise.”

Kara hands her head and toes off her shoes, sitting at the edge of the sand-covered porch and dipping her toes in the pool’s cool water. She doesn’t feel its temperature; it just stands to make Cat’s judgment all the more harsh.

“Sounds like you made a royal mess of things.”

She wants to apologize. To say that this was all her fault, but a part of her still thinks she’s not entirely in the wrong.  She swallows down that worry and looks up to see Cat staring at her, a small smile on her face. “Was I wrong?” Kara asks.

“Of course you were, Kara.” Cat answers with a snap.  “We all have our affairs, goodness knows mine with Ben Affleck was one for the ages, but we had the good sense to not get our picture taken by the gossip rags until after my feature on him was published.” She gets to her feet and pads down the diving board to loom over Kara. “Lucas isn’t sure if he should fire you for this.”

“Fire me?” Kara’s eyes go wide. It’s a threat that’s loomed over her head since she was hired at CatCo, but Cat was soft on her and never allowed the threats to go beyond idle words. She bristles, too, at the idea of it. Cat is out of the game, but Kara thought – she thought she was protected from some asshole like Snapper Carr throwing his weight around like this. “But I didn’t do anything! When I went to see her we talked and got along. She wanted to talk more…”

“Did you ever stop to think about _why_ she’s so willing to talk to you, as opposed to Montague or Yosef on the Enterprise team? Both of them are skilled interviewers and journalists. Montague has worked on Pulitzer winning projects in Star City and Gotham. Yosef was embedded in Fallujah.” Cat glares down at Kara. “She’s talking to you because you’re green, Kara. You don’t know what you’re doing and she thinks that if you’re friendly, you’ll do her a favor in the reporting.” Cat’s lip curled, a little viciously. “Her brother may have been a malicious little shite bent on world destruction, but his ruthlessness was something to be admired. I think you’ll find that the Luthor girl has that in spades as well.”

Kara stares down at her hands. “I like her.”

“You’re allowed to like her, cozying up to people is part of the job.” Cat says this wistfully, like a fond memory she won’t let go of just yet. “She’s what, two, three years older than you? Probably reminds you of your sister.”

“No, I…” Kara gets to her feet hurriedly, wanting to be away from Cat’s looming. It’s unfamiliar. She came here for the familiarity of Cat’s presence. She wants to just spit it out, but that feels like a betrayal to Cat as well. “I wanted…” She can’t find the words to say she wanted Lena to kiss her.

Cat boggles at Kara, staring at her like she’s some sort of alien – which Kara is; but they’re both very good at pretending Cat doesn’t know about that. “Maybe I should fire you then.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Kara, you can’t just go making moon eyes at someone who you’ve interviewed, and were set to interview further, no matter how pretty she is.”  Cat rubs at her temple. Kara sees the warning signs, and moves toward the door, already getting into action.

“Do you need me to get your Excedrin?” Kara asks, because Cat’s got her trained still. She sees the flash of something Cat’s eyes, a bit like regret, a bit like the bittersweet feeling that’s roiling in Kara’s stomach right now: the kind of feeling that fills Kara’s mouth up with acid and makes her want to curl up into a ball and hide.

“Being nice to me isn’t going to get you back on the team, Kara. Lucas was right. If you’re thinking about getting involved with Ms. Luthor, no matter how ill advised that is for a person of your…” Cat trails off, waiving her hand at Kara in a way that could mean anything, really. “You can’t be within spitting distance of that story. Or any story about LuthorCorp or L-Corp or whatever new name that girl has put into place to make herself sleep better at night for that matter.”

“Snapper’s going to say she’s doing something bad, Cat!” Kara protests. “I saw what she’s doing, why she’s phasing the chemicals out even though people are going to lose their jobs. There’s a blight that those chemicals kill, but they’ve figured out how to grow a new type of wheat—”

Cat puts up one finger. “You, Kara, cannot be involved with this investigation. Go back to the city and do whatever Snapper tells you to do. Keep your head down and let the article run its course. After that, and only if you’ve impressed him, can you see about getting involved with another investigation.” Cat sighs, steps forward and fiddles with the collar of Kara’s dress. “You’ve put your foot in it, Kara, fallen down.” Kara’s breath catches, because this is the same, only it still feels like a regret. A might have been that’s passing quickly – replaced by a girl with a sly smile and something Kara cannot put into words. “We all fall, but it’s how we get back up that people remember.”

 

On her way back to the city, Kara calls Lena at the office, because the whole thing is a mess and she wants to make sure that she hasn’t somehow ruined things for Lena as well.

She gets Spencer, the secretary, who apologizes, but says that Lena is in with the PR rep and won’t be available. Kara leaves a message with him and then texts Lena’s cell saying that she’s sorry this has happened. If she’s in a meeting with a PR rep, she’s probably having a similar conversation to the ones Kara’s had all morning. 

It was just as might have been.

Still, the memory of Lena’s hand, warm in the dark and the press of Lena’s fingers on her lips is tough to ignore. She can’t forget it, can’t forget how good Lena smelled or how Kara wanted nothing more, nothing more in that moment than to kiss  those fingers and then pull Lena in close.

High above the city, her lungs full of pure, clean air, Kara lets out a frustrated groan. She isn’t sure if she likes Lena, or if this is just some transference after Cat, or some lust unburdened by any emotional baggage. She cannot wrap her head around it.  She needs a distraction.  She needs something to _do._

 

Snapper puts her on the fires that have been cropping up in the hills. It’s a piece for the website, not something that will ever get into the magazine proper. “People don’t care about fires in National City, Ponytail,” he explained, grunting into his coffee mug. “The website has too much local traffic to ignore something like this, though.”

Kara’s reviewing the coverage of the fires when Leah Montague knocks on her office door. There’s a big stack of papers in her hands and a to-go bag from Noonan’s on top. “Can I use your couch?” She asks. “Snapper and David are having it out and I need to focus.”

“I can’t see what you’re working on,” Kara answers. Like hell is she getting fired for being nice to a member of the Enterprise team.

“Relax, Snapper likes you too much to fire you.” Montague kicks the door most of the way closed, her shoes are normal black leather today, but she’s wearing fish-scaled tights under a knee-length red skirt. There are little fish on her shirt’s collar. “And I want you to see what a FOIA request looks like when it comes back. Snapper can get over himself if he thinks that’s a bad thing.”

Swallowing, Kara nods. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m not, but we don’t need to mention it.” Montague grins. “Plus, don’t you need to get out and get some statements? For the fire thing?”

“I do.” Kara nods.

“Leave me your key and I’ll lock up after.” Montague opens her lunch. “Thank god for Noonan’s. I’m starved.”

Kara sighs and goes back to her reading, leaving Montague to eat her lunch and read through the FOIA request. There’s a _lot_ more paper than Kara was expecting for the findings, not that she’s paying attention.

_You, Kara, cannot be involved._

Cat’s words echo in her mind, and Kara’s hand jerks. She doesn’t have to be _Kara Danvers_ to help with this story, if she really wanted to. Or if she found something out about the story that could help Snapper not to make any more of an ass of himself than he already was. They need to _know_ about the wheat that Lena’s modified. It’ll shape their understanding of the FOIA request and probably reframe their reporting.

“When I went to see Lena Luthor,” Kara begins.

Montague puts up a hand, finishes writing whatever she’s writing, and then looks up at Kara with the most rapt attention in her brown eyes. “Careful, Danvers.”

“When I went to see her, she showed me something that they were working on.  You remember in my original story, how that guy out in Nevada said that the only green he saw at the company was chemicals?” At the narrowing of Montague’s eyes and the way her lips pursed into a thin line, Kara knew she was following. “Well, they created those chemicals to treat a soil blight, and now they’ve bred a strain of wheat that’s resistant to the blight. No more need to create the chemicals, right? At least that’s what Lena implied to me.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t think its right for me to know this and let you guys just push forward under the assumption that they’re up to something else.”

“I would tell you to corroborate, but you can’t.” Montague sighs, flops back against the back of the couch. “It would explain this filing, though.” She looks down at the paper in her hands.  “Forget I said that. Thanks for telling me, Danvers. I’ll make sure Dave and Lucas find out after I get some concrete proof to back it up.”

Kara nods, gathers her things, and unclips her office key from her key ring. “Thanks for locking up,” she says, tossing the key to Montague. 

“Sure, kid.”

 

Lena calls just as Kara’s leaving City Hall the next morning. She’d been in to discuss emergency preparedness with a rep from the mayor’s office. The fires are pretty contained to the hills, except for the two warehouse fires that Kara very deliberately avoided due to their tangential connection to L-Corp, so the meeting was more about fire preparedness and general precautions than about the why of it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back sooner,” Lena sounds exhausted.  Kara ducks into an alleyway to hear her better over the sound of the bustling city street. “I was sequestered after that _Enquirer_ article.”

“I’m banned from reporting on you at all,” Kara answers. “Because of the article.”

“I’m sorry,” Lena says again.

“Don’t be.” Kara swallows. “I never meant for people to discover what we were… maybe doing so soon, are we doing something?” She exhales, rubs at the back of her neck, but then presses on. “My boss is right. It wasn’t good for me to be wanting that… with you… and writing the story at the same time.”

“Does this mean that you’re free to see me?” Lena asks, sounding just a little hopeful.

Kara bites her lip, looks down at her feet, and tugs her glasses from her face. “We can’t go out. The last thing I think either of us want is to be photographed in public again.”

“So I’ll come to you.”

“You’ll _what?_ ”

“I’ll come see you. We can get take out.”

“I could cook,” Kara offers. “If you want to come to my place.”

“It’s a date then,” Lena sounds like she’s grinning. “I want you to tell me all about your new assignment.”

“It’s pretty boring” Kara laughs. “Wildfire preparedness.”

“I sincerely doubt that that’s boring.” Lena says. “Text me your address. I’ll see you at…”

“Seven,” Kara decides. “I’ll see you at seven.”

 

Montague has vacated Kara’s office by the time she gets back to CatCo. She sticks her head into the Enterprise office and sees the key taped to the back of the door. Kara takes it and scurries away before Snapper catches her anywhere near that white board.  She’s got other things to look into, anyway. The blaze in the hills is about 20% contained and she’s going to be headed up there to speak to folks on the ground after lunch. She just needs to drop off some of her things and change out of her dress before she heads back out. 

There is an email in her inbox, waiting. It’s from Snapper, with a link to a report out of Flagstaff about urban sprawl and the growth of wildfires, as well as another few reports about how regular forest fires actually can be preventative, as can forest management.  He hasn’t written much of an email, just a scant few lines on how this is interesting research and getting some comments from the FDNC on the tactics discussed here could be enriching.

Kara’s grateful, in a way, when she heads up to the hills, armed with that knowledge. The spokesman for the fire department is nice, Kara’s spoken to him before as Supergirl and as Kara on different occasions, he gives her a few good details on the preparedness angle.

“Are you going to report about the body?” He asks as Kara thanks him for his time and is turning to leave.

“The what?”

“They found a body in the woods, under one of those SunSeeker blankets. Had a bunch of gear with him. If you wanted to know more, you’d have to ask the police, but no one’s been interested in him; just the fire.”

Kara resolves, then and there, to make sure this story is told.

 

The dead guy was a plant geneticist from NCU. The policemen at the scene, uniformed officers mostly, didn’t know much more about him other than that he was working on some sort of special project with soils and plant growth and come up to collect samples. “There’s loads of clay and sand up in the hills,” his graduate assistant explains. “And the work he’s doing needs lots of both of those.”

“Why?” Kara asks, leaning forward to peer into the lab. “What was he working on?”

“Something with some folks out at K-State, there’s been some messed up stuff in the soil there, after that meteor shower oh about thirty years ago now. Dr. Benson was looking at how potentially introducing clays or sand may alter the way that the soil is composed and break down that weirdness.” The kid shrugs. “Nothing too exciting.” He glances at his watch.  “Look Miss… Danvers, was it? I have to go cover a class now.”

“Thanks,” Kara answers. “If I have any further questions I’ll be in touch.” 

The problem is that she has questions that she already knows the answers to, and she knows that if she sits on this detail, it’ll end up in the same blow up that started this week. She can already draw the lines and pull the connections to the forefront between Jimmy Benson’s research, meteor rocks, and the development of an aggressive soil blight that was only controlled through Luthor Chemical pesticides.

She calls Clark on her way back to the office, tells him the whole story and asks what he’d do.  “Tell Snapper,” he says. “He might be a jerk, but the guy is steady. If you identify a viable connection, he’ll either instruct you to give over that part of the article to someone on else, or tell you to leave it off in favor of the preparedness angle.”

“What would you do?”

“Make sure that someone on the Enterprise team knows what they’re dealing with,” Clark answers grimly. “We have an advantage, you know. We can be someone else.”

“Cat said the same thing,” Kara mumbles.

It’s as though a record’s skipped. “Cat Grant knows?” Clark demands. “Kara, how could you be so—”

“I don’t know if she knows, Kal,” Kara says quickly. “She just...says things sometimes that make me think she’s aware.”

“That still isn’t _good_.” Clark protests. “What if she outs you? What if she tells the wrong person?”

“She won’t.” Kara insists. “She could have done it a thousand times over now. She hasn’t, so I’m thinking she’s not inclined to say anything.”

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put into someone who’s made her living spilling people’s secrets.” Clark points out. “You’re in a real mess, Kara.”

“Tell me about it.” Kara groans. She pauses, hanging in midair, her earpiece is killing her ear.  She tugs it out and then puts it back in. “Do you think Snapper will throw me off this story too?”

Clark is silent for a while, as Kara hangs there.  “I don’t think you’ll know until you level set-with him.  I would make sure not to get too invested either way.”

 

Snapper reads over her copy, tapping his red pen against the page but not making any marks. A little thrill of victory shoots down Kara’s spine. “This is clean,” he says. “I’m impressed considering that mess last time.”

“I know how to not mistakes, sir.” There’s an edge in Kara’s voice that she didn’t anticipate when she walked into this meeting.  She clamps down on it, wanting to get out of the office and figure out what the hell she was going to cook for Lena, not to mention scrub her entire apartment from top to bottom. Kara grabs a chair and sits down across from Snapper, her heart racing, just a little bit.  From her bag, she produced her notebook and the few articles she’s managed to dig up on Jimmy Benson and his research. “There’s a problem though.”

He looks over his glasses at her. “What?”

“I did what you suggested, listened to that reporting and I went out to speak to the men on the ground to see if they’d pinpointed the origins of the blaze.  I’ve met the FDNC PR rep a few times before.”

“And?”

“Well, sir, there was a guy who died in the fire. His name is James Benson and he’s a plant geneticist at NCU.” Kara passes over her files. “I didn’t want to go forward with any more research before I told you about this…”

He grunts. “Fancy that. You found another one.”

“Another what?”

“Dead scientist who specializes in plant genetics, Dave found one as well, in that fire down at the L-Corp warehouse.” He glares at Kara. “You’ve already formed the relationships we need for this,” He exhales, inhales again. Seeming to weigh his decision, he says at length. “You can’t work on this if there turns out to be a connection between the two fires, but until there is one, I want you to follow up. This is the sort of thing that local readers will be interested in.”

Kara nods.

“And Danvers?” Kara feels a little thrill of victory as his using her name. “The minute you see another connection like this, let me know. I am not going to lose this story under any suspicion of impropriety. Not after that _Rolling Stone_ debacle of last year.”

“Of course, sir.” Kara gets to her feet and lingers, just for a moment. The words are on the tip of her tongue, the confession of what Lena Luthor’s told her about the strain of wheat. She could tell him to call Clark, because Clark is from where the meteor hit, but that’s a terrible idea. The last thing Clark needs is Snapper Carr looking into his past. She bites it back, and swallows down her anxiety. Montague is still willing to talk about the story with her, at least tangentially, and Supergirl is just the sort of person to deliver the information if there turns out to be another conflict of interest.

 

The problem comes later, seeping, twisting, morphing into something Kara doesn’t expect at first. Something that delves deep into the fears that Kara’s had since she first arrived on earth, since she first saw Fort Rozz looming high above her, since her aunt stepped before her for the first time.  What is the cost of the alien presence on Earth? Is it that there will always be people like Lex Luthor, who only see something foreign to hate? Or are they people like the president, who want to embrace the presence of all those who have come to call Earth home?

Kara picks at this as she cleans and starts to cook. She moves slowly, methodically. She lets herself relax into doing things at a human speed. It’s hypnotic, repetitive. She can sink back into the state of mind she had when she first was sent to Earth, that steady calm and desperate fear melding into confidence that was hard to shake. 

She closes her eyes and thinks of Lena’s fingers on her lips, on the way that Lena smiled, their heads pressed together for that picture that’s so damned Kara’s creditability within Snapper and Cat’s eyes. Lena who doesn’t seem to mind that Kara’s a bit different, Lena who’s trying to fix the image of humans in the eyes of aliens by taking her brother’s legacy and spitting on it.

 

“This is a beautiful space,” Lena says when Kara lets her into her spotless apartment. “I had no idea there was something like this in the area.”

The implication is hanging. How can she afford to live here? Kara knows that most of the gen assignment reporters at CatCo make about half her salary. She knows its public knowledge that it’s a thankless job with little pay or recognition. But that’s why she likes it so much. She wants to tell the truth.  So she does so now, alone but for this girl she likes: “I do some work on the weekends to help the Super, she cuts me a deal as she’s about 85 and can’t do all the heavy lifting anymore.”

“So you what, spend your weekends replacing locks and fixing leaky faucets?”

Kara grins, feeling a little goofy and a little self-conscious all at once.  She adjusts her glasses, fidgets with her hair. “Occasionally I wear a uniform.” Lena bites her lip, and there’s this moment when Kara wonders if she’s threading together connections. She panics, correcting hastily. "Like, overalls, I mean." She steps forward, fingers flailing.  “Let me give you a tour!”

She shows Lena around the apartment, and Lena’s quiet. She’s quiet when she looks at Kara’s paintings with the sort of scrutiny usually only paintings in national galleries are afforded.  Kara watches how her jaw works against the line of her throat, and how she seems suddenly so very ill at ease.

“What are these pictures of?” she asks, when Kara heads back into the kitchen to deal with a timer. She’s made curry, because it’s easy and Lena seems the sort who doesn’t often eat a home cooked meal. “They’re exquisitely done, but I must confess the subject matter is a bit… foreign.” Her voice dips again, into that weird accent that Kara can’t place.

“Oh, they’re from stories I read as a child.” Which is not, _technically_ a lie. That’s probably why it flows so easily off of Kara’s tongue. “You know, picture books, myths and legends, that sort of thing.” She waves a dismissive hand. “That one you’re looking at is drawn from a story about a stellar highway populated by fish made up of vibrating molecules of water that move quickly so they won’t freeze.” She sounds a little whimsical, knowing the myths of Krypton will be lost on someone from Earth, someone who’s never seen the fish swim across Kandor’s sky. “I always loved science fiction as a child.”

“I always favored realism.” Lena steps away from the painting to join Kara in the kitchen. “Though I suppose my reality changed when I was a child and my parents were killed.”

Kara looks down at her hands. “Mine are dead too.”

“But we both found new families, didn’t we?” Lena’s smile is small, fond. “Sure, the Luthors shipped me off to boarding school as soon as Lionel started to get bad and Lex was deemed too young to care for me. I had a family at school too. And you have your sister and her family. I wonder; are there stories in science fiction that talk about how important seeing that is for a child? Those were the stories I always loved most as a child.”

“There are.” Kara says. “Stories about acceptance, about that unconditional love and understanding that you can never forget who you are.” Lena’s eyes are downcast, but when Kara steps into her space she looks up, and her eyes are clouded with an emotion Kara cannot explain. It is like being adrift, floating with your head barely above water. “I could never forget who I was, before. You shouldn’t either.”

“All I want to do is erase the past, Kara.” Lena’s fingers thread through the fabric of the apron Kara’s pulled over her dress.

“Sometimes the past informs the future,” Kara leans forward. “It’s silly to try and forget it entirely.” They’re breathing the same air, and Kara belatedly realizes that this conversation is laden with innuendo. She does the only thing she can think of, in this instant, when she knows she has to derail it before she confesses who she is to a _Luthor_. She raises shaking hands. “I’d really like to kiss you,” she says.

“Then do it,” Lena’s eyes flutter shut. “This is where we were going, wasn’t it?”

Kara threads her fingers carefully into Lena’s hair. Lena’s breath feels hot now, her fingers sliding from the apron down to rest on Kara’s hips.  Kara rests her other hand on Lena’s shoulder and dips her head, just a little bit, to brush her lips against Lena’s.  They’re smooth with expensive lipstick and she smells wonderful this close.  Kara inhales through her nose and deepens the kiss, pressing closer when Lena pulls her forward.

(It’s a terrible mistake, but it’s one Kara will make willingly.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween guys! 
> 
> (some interesting stuff on forest fires [here](https://www.revealnews.org/episodes/americas-ring-of-fire/))


	4. iv

It takes nearly a week of digging to find the connection between James Benson and the scientist who died in the warehouse fire, August Mendez. Kara pretends that she’s not counting down the days until something is, inevitably, found, because she wants to be the one to write this story. What makes it even worse is that the connection comes from a study funded by a shell company that traces back through a series of intermediaries to the private account of someone on the L-Corp board of directors.

A study that was completely buried before it ever saw the light of day.

The details of the study are hazy. Kara convinces Winn to use his DEO credentials to look into the study as it may actually be something that they have to look into. Alien technology is becoming a bigger problem these days; but this issue goes way back to when the DEO was first founded, if not before.  Kara gets Hank and Clark on a conference line and asks them about what they remember from when Clark was still a kid and last remnants of Krypton became so embedded into the society of his Kansas hometown that they caused all sorts of problems.

“What does this fire have to do with Smallville?”

Kara clicks her pen as gently as she can, and begins to explain what she’s learned before getting kicked off the story. She tells them about the blight and is surprised when Clark recounts a bitter fight he had with Lex Luthor when half his father’s crops failed his junior year of high school. Kara wants to say that Jonathan Kent was never Clark’s father, but she holds her tongue, the fond memory of Jor-El too strong in her mind to ever allow her to forget his existence.

“The pesticide came out the following year if I remember correctly. Lex contracted in some big shot chemist outta Star City named… Jim Benson.” Clark exhales, and Hank places a heavy hand on Kara’s shoulder. “Oh Kara, I’m sorry.”

Swallowing down annoyance and frustration, Kara shakes her head and moves Hank’s hand from her shoulder.  He doesn’t let it go, and instead stands close enough for her to lean on him. She groans, more for Clark on the phone than for Hank’s benefit. “I’m going to end up writing some piece about fire preparedness at this rate.”

“Why was Benson up in the hills?” Hank asks. “Any Kryptonite located there would be detected by our scanners.” Kara turns to stare at him. “Well, that’s what he was after, wasn’t it? More of the stuff that mutated with whatever fungus —”

“It was a maggot, actually,” Kara corrects, almost distractedly, because her mind is racing. This angle, this is something she can look into, potentially.

Hank waves a hand. “Whatever it was, it was impacted and altered by the presence of the Kryptonite in that town. And whatever it was made to be resistant against was also used in the creation of the chemical. If Benson was up in the hills looking for more of it, we need to go up there and see if we can’t find what he wasn’t able to find.”

“And you’ll give it to me to dispose of, once you find it?” Clark says.

His jaw working, Hank grunts a yes. Kara beams at him, because this is an improvement.  Clark hangs up and Kara lingers in the DEO conference room, gathering up her notes.

“I guess I have to go tell Snapper…”

“About the Kryptonite?” Hank sounds alarmed.

“No, about the connection to L-Corp.” Kara sighs. She really wants to write this story, but she cannot and she knows that fighting with Snapper about it will only get her fired.

Hank says nothing, his face is impassive. Kara makes to leave before he finally speaks; his tone curt. “I saw that article in the _Enquirer_.” Her cheeks burn when she turns to face him. He has no recourse, but Kara’s a little surprise he’s saying anything at all. Hank’s face is unreadable and Kara finds herself feeling like she’s flailing, desperate to know his thoughts. She wants his approval in a way that she hasn’t wanted approval from many people before: Alex, always; Cat in recent years, Eliza, Clark… Lois. It’s only recently that Hank – J’onn – has come to be a member of that list. “I told Alex not to mention it to you, because I wanted to speak to you first.”

If Kara’s honest, she had been wondering about that. “Y-you did?” Kara doesn’t feel much like Supergirl anymore.

Sitting down on a chair and gesturing for Kara to join him, Hank bridges his fingers together and looks at Kara with that sad, almost disappointed look that Eliza so often reserves for Alex. She sits slowly, tentatively. “Kara, I don’t have to tell you that you’re taking a big risk with this girl.”

Indignation surges in Kara and she shakes her head. “No,” she says. “You don’t get to tell me that.”

“I’m speaking to you as a friend, Kara. You know who she is, and what her family is.” Hank’s eyes were kind, but Kara could see the steel there. It was born out of the same fear she felt the first time she walked into Lena’s office. Lena wasn’t like that, not like her brother. “Isn’t that as much of a Kryptonian blood feud as what you had with Non?”

Kara shakes her head. “No,” she answers. “What Lena and I have isn’t like that at all. And if it was, it would be between Kal and Lex, not me and Lena.”

“Well,” Hank gets to his feet, his hands pressing into his knees and his movements heavy. “I just wanted you to know that I’m concerned.”

Kara doesn’t say thank you, or that she understands; she sits there, stony-faced, until she can no longer hear the push and pull of Hank’s blood circling in his veins.

Her phone beeps. Kara looks down. Snapper wants to see her.

She gets heavily to her feet and flies back to the office.

 

“You’re done,” Snapper says, taking her stack of notes and flipping through them after she tells him what she’s found.

“But sir!”

“You made this choice, Danvers,” he answers. “This is good work – not great but it could get there if you worked at it – but you can’t be the one writing this piece.  I’m giving it to David as he’s done the other half of the research.  You need to be prepared to assist, but I want you to stick to the fire angle for now. If there’s a connection there, we’ll have to reassess.”  Snapper perches his glasses on top of his head. “What’s so good about Lena Luthor anyway?”

Kara looks down at her keyboard and something inside of her grinds to a halt. This is rude, this is unfortunate, and this is not something he should even be remotely allowed to ask her, no matter how nosy journalists are by nature. “It isn’t any of your business, sir,” she grinds out.

“Fine.”

“Okay.” Kara goes back to typing. The article she’s writing on fire preparedness has now morphed into something else. There’s the requisite fire piece, but also a discussion with experts on how best to regulate the fires that will come in the future.  It isn’t as though the drought in California is getting any better.  Kara’s digging into water waste around National City, LA and San Diego now, trying to figure out if there’s an angle there she can work into the piece.

Kara taps her keyboard and saves her work. Snapper’s lingering, as though he wants to ask her something else.  Kara swallows back her annoyance at him and thinks about what’s best for the magazine. Cat would want her to do this, and she’s pretty sure Lena will understand Leah Montague or David Yoself showing up to ask the tough questions. “What about the connection to L-Corp? Shouldn’t we find someone to ask Lena Luthor what she thinks of this study? She’s working on that wheat-strain, the one that’s resistant to that blight. From what Jim Benson was working on, it seems as though there could be an alien component to the initial onset of the blight. If that’s the case, there could be a lot more far-reaching than just a series of mysterious deaths.”

“You’re still working on this.” Snapper levels a glare at Kara.  “You _can’t_ work on this. You can’t tell me these things, Ponytail. There cannot even be a _whiff_ of impropriety on this story or else we’re going to be up to our ears in corporate lawyers and there’s nothing I can’t stand more than lawyers. We don’t know that they’re working on that strain of wheat beyond the EPA and FDA files that we got through that FOIA request.  So. Stop. Talking. About. It.”

 “Yes, sir.” Kara bows her head.

“I want a draft of that piece by EOB tomorrow.” Snapper heads to the door. “No less than 2500 words.”

That’s about a thousand more than Kara thought she was going to get.  “Really?” her eyes are wide, excited.

“You’re doing the work necessary to make this piece better than I’d anticipated, and giving it a broader appeal. The magazine could have space for it.”

Kara feels like she’s fit to burst when Snapper walks out of the office. She smiles triumphantly and texts Clark to tell him.  He’s happy for her too, telling her that this is good, she’s making a name for herself with the human interest stories she’s telling.

 

After lunch, Kara tries to call Lena, but gets voicemail. She leaves a short message knowing that they hadn’t made plans and saying that she wants to see Lena. She’s about to go back to her article when there’s a knock on the door.  Leah Montague sticks her head into the office and takes in the mess of the city map and the fires and the current prevention and precautions in place.  “Damn,” she says. “You’ve gone full conspiracy theorist with this.”

“I like the visual of the map,” Kara answers.  She saves her work. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to let you know that Snapper’s got me an interview with Lena Luthor about this study and the fires.  I know it was supposed to be your interview, so…” She rubs at the back of her head.  Her hair’s straight today and she’s dressed in a very professional-looking suit save for bright red hoop earrings that match her fingernails. “I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

Kara sighs. “Good luck,” she says. “Lena is… a tough interview.”

Montague gives a little salute and ducks back out of the room.  Kara exhales, slowly, shakily. She isn’t disappointed, because she knows Snapper’s right about this. If she were to ask Lena about this, she’s pretty sure the answer would be different than the one Montague would get. Montague’s older, she knows how to write and what sort of questions to actually ask to get the truth out of Lena, or hell, anyone else in the L-Corp R&D department. 

But Kara wants to _know_ , and she wants to hear it from Lena herself. She gets up and goes to the Enterprise bullpen to see that Montague’s already gone.  Only Kelly remains, paging through a long list of printed out numbers.

“Hey,” Kara says. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Kelly looks up, her hair frizzing and her expression sour. “You got kicked off this story, you can’t be in here.”

Exasperation forces its way from Kara in a forced exhalation. She straightens, and stands just outside the door way. “I wanted to ask for your help with something else.”

“I’m _busy_.” Kelly replies shortly. “Don’t you have that hacker friend of yours?”

Kara shakes her head. “He quit, got a job for the government.”

A small smile cracks Kelly’s lips. It opens her up, makes her look a hundred times friendlier. “What do you want?”

“I need a way to look at microfiche, old microfiche.”

“Go to the library,” Kelly grunts. “And stop bothering me about it.”

“No!” Kara protests, she steps into the room, ignoring everything on the walls and comes to stand on the other side of Kelly’s desk.  “Look, I need to look at historical dumping records and at the propensity for meteor showers in the area where the fire broke out last week.  There was something in the fire that made it burn faster, hotter, than your typical fire. That’s the reason Jim Benson was killed, because he had the right protection.”

“And it had nothing to do with the Luthors having a propensity for offing those who stand in the way of them making buckets of easy money.”

Kara grits her teeth and doesn’t say anything at all.

“Oh my god, don’t pout like Cat Grant just kicked your puppy off the side of the building. Just because you like kissing Lena Luthor does not automatically replace the reputation her family’s company has in many circles.” Kelly wrinkles her nose and turns back to her computer. “I’ll get your damn fire info. I assume you’re drafting, then?”

“Yes, Snapper wants it end of business tomorrow.”

“Can you follow up with everything if I don’t have anything before tonight?”

Kara nods. “I just need some background.”

“Okay. You’ll have it in the morning. Write around whatever you need and I’ll provide.” Kelly waves her hand dismissively. “Now, get gone before Snapper catches you in here and has your head on a stake outside.”

Kara doesn’t need to be told twice.

 

 

Alex is waiting outside of Kara’s door with a pizza box in hand and two Red Box movies tucked under her arm when Kara arrives home.  It’s close to eight and Kara’s fretting, worried about Lena and why she hasn’t called all day.  Since their shared dinner last week, since the kissing and the subsequent kissing at later dates and over the weekend when they’d spent the night together at Lena’s place, totally platonically, exhausted from their collective too-stressful days. Kara’d put out another fire. Lena’d been in meetings for nearly thirteen hours straight.  The calls are nightly or close to it these days. It’s unusual for Lena to be silent. She’s chatty when she’s bored in meetings, or when she’s stuck burning the midnight oil trying to get a series of patent requests approved. Kara recalls that Cat was much the same way, and her scathing commentary sometimes made it hard for Kara to take notes. Lena is just… she’s friendly, and Kara misses her acutely in her silence.

“J’onn said you might want company.” Alex holds out the pizza box like a peace offering.

“J’onn did?” Kara frowns and slides her key into the lock. “Because of the fires and what we had to talk to Clark about?”

Shrugging, Alex follows Kara inside and sets the pizza box down on the counter. “No, I think it’s because he’s worried about you.”

“Worried?”

“You’ve been distracted all week… not answering calls, your head’s somewhere else.”

“The fires—” Kara rubs at the back of her head and sets her bag down. “I’m sorry, I’ve been really buried in the story. We keep false starting, following the threads of things that don’t really add to the narrative.  It’s frustrating. But!” Kara grins excitedly, “Snapper says he might put it into the magazine.”

Alex shakes her head. “Not your story, Kara.” She guides Kara to sit beside her on the couch. “This is… Well, I’ve seen how you behave when you like someone. It consumes you, you obsess.” She raises an eyebrow.  “You remember Isaac, in college?”

Kara puffs out her cheeks. “That was _not_ the same.” He’d been her first real boyfriend after a series of fumbling missteps in high school. They dated for a year before Kara’d ended things. There’d been too many near misses, too many moments when they’d almost gotten to a point where Kara had wanted to tell him about who she was. And he could never know. His anti-alien sentiments were well-hidden, but they showed their colors slowly, like a ripening bruise, until all Kara could see when she looked at Isaac was the sickening yellowish hatred of his heart. “He was an ass, for one. A bigot for two.”

“And then Yasmina?”

Kara groans. “We don’t talk about that. Ever.” She’d been twenty one and her heart was shattered by a beautiful exchange student. It’s the closest Kara ever felt to love, in her short dating life, and the fact that Alex is bringing her up to make her point forces the air from Kara’s lungs and makes her heart rattle uncomfortably. Is she like that? With Lena? She doesn’t think she could possibly… not with Lena.

“What about Cat Grant?”

“Alex!” Kara is scandalized. “Nothing ever happened!”  But she’s thinking about how she let James go without so much as a second thought, her life dissolving into chaos with Cat going and then gone. It just hadn’t worked despite her wanting it to work, despite James wanting it to work. Was he on a rebound? Was she? “Am I on a rebound?” The question tumbles out unbidden.

“If you are, it’s a damn weird one.”  Alex gets up and takes down plates from the high cabinet and brings the pizza box over. She sets them both on the coffee table. “I think J’onn is right to worry about you, though. She’s a Luthor. You don’t know what she wants from you.”

Kara says nothing, she crams her pizza into her mouth and stares moodily at the blank television.  Alex takes the silence as an approval to start the movie.  When she turns on the TV the seven o’clock news is just starting. There’s fire everywhere. The text on the screen reads ‘laboratory fire’ and Kara strains her ears, listening past the aches and pains of city living to hear one specific heartbeat, panicked breathing along with a hiss of pain.

The pizza falls from Kara’s fingers and she’s gone before Alex can register what’s happened, racing across the city fast enough to push the sound barrier and make windows rattle and a few blow out as she goes. She doesn’t care. There’s only one thing on her mind, only one thing drifting like a half-formed, hazy thought: she doesn’t care if this is a rebound.

 

L-Corp’s research and development wing, the place where Lena brought her to show off the amazing thing her company was doing, is in flames. Kara follows the ring of fire fighters until she finds Leah Montague.

“Kara!” Montague runs over to her and grabs her hand. Her eyes are wide and there’s a streak of white ash running down her cheek and shirt. “What are you doing here?”

She isn’t Supergirl. Kara’s hands fly to her face. Her glasses are gone, her hair is down. She’s still dressed for work, but the panic of being herself – her true self – in such a situation is almost insurmountable. She’s going to get caught, they’re going to _know_. She chokes back her fear and looks Montague clean in the eyes. “I—Lena.” She stammers.

Montague glances over her shoulder, toward an ambulance. “We were in the lab; she was showing me the wheat… and then it just… an inferno.”

Kara grips Montague’s hand, squeezes hard enough to crush bone, but Montague does not so much as flinch. “Where is she?”

“Over there.” Montague pulls Kara’s fingers from her hand. “Kara – oh for fuck’s sake Kara, she’s _fine._ ”

But Kara’s gone, ducking under police tape and rushing to the far side of the ambulance.  Lena is sitting under a blanket, breathing into an oxygen mask. There’s a bandage on her cheek, and another wrapped around her forearm.  The sleeve of her shirt is torn, singed up to a point.  But she’s alright. Kara exhales, standing just a few feet away, in the midst of the chaos.

Lena looks up, and her eyes go wide, green that shines black and then even in the flashing red and white lights overhead.  She pulls the mask from her face and purses her lips.  Kara approaches, slowly, perhaps a little hesitantly. Lena’s not stupid, she’ll see straight through Kara right now.

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” Lena says.

“There wasn’t any time,” Kara answers. She draws a deep breath. “I had to…”

Getting to her feet, Lena winces.  She steps closer to brush some hair from Kara’s forehead. “You look nice.”

This isn’t the time.

“Lena,” Kara swallows back the fear, “Is there anyone else inside?” She cannot be Kara Danvers in this moment, but she isn’t Supergirl either. She’s someone else – perhaps her truest self – the being that could never let someone die in a fire and stand by, even if in the process a secret comes out that could destroy everything.

“I—” Lena looks panicked. “I don’t know.”

Kara kisses Lena, she kisses her and she touches the bandage of Lena’s face. It feels like a goodbye, the end of something that never got a chance to begin. “Stay here. I need to make sure.” She steps back, her eyes determined. She sees, rather than knows, the moment when Lena figures it out, and it’s a shattering of the trust they’ve built.

Until Lena throws herself to Kara and kisses her like she’s salvation. Kara pushes on her shoulders, gentle, but Lena’s tongue is in her mouth.  She pulls away, breathless. “You can look from here. No lead in the building.” She presses her lips to Kara’s once more, tight lipped. Kara’s fingers skate along the solid line of her jaw. “Don’t go in there, _please_ Kara, don’t.”

What it is an invitation, and not just one afforded to Kara Danvers, junior reporter. No this is an invitation for Supergirl to look and to see and to trust that Lena is not who everyone says she is.

Her arms around Lena, holding her tight. Kara stares into the building and _looks_ past the walls and the fire. At first sees nothing, and then beyond the smoke she starts to go room by room, seeing everything she refused to look at when Lena took her into the R&D division before. There is wonder there, wonder burning up in flames. 

And there, in the blackness, Kara senses more than sees, the little tugging on her powers, the slight churn of nausea in her stomach.  Amid a pile of dirt where the wheat had once grown, there was something else present, something alien.

“It was late – there was no one…” Lena explains, half-babbling, her voice scratchy with smoke. "There wouldn't have been anyone..."

Kara exhales, steps away from Lena.

“We should talk.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the happiest of chapters, but we're building to the finale now. 
> 
> I hope that everyone is safe out there. I love you all very much.


End file.
